


The Vow of a Wolf

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Canon-Typical Violence, Cursed Derek, Cursed Stiles Stilinski, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Hawk Stiles, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s a boy with alabaster skin, scattered with moles,” Jennifer explained as she thought about Stiles. “With large, dove-like eyes. He’s accompanied by this wolf—the one with fur as black as the night they travel by.”</p><p>“Is it the boy or the wolf you want dead?” The hunter questioned.</p><p>“Kill the boy before you end the wolf’s life,” Jennifer commanded. “Let the wolf smell the blood of the boy it loves. Let it howl in pain before you end it.”</p><p>“Yes, my lady,” the hunter dutifully answered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vow of a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Hi! I was wondering if you ever have the time could you perhaps write a Sterek Lady Hawk AU?? Only if you want:) thanks."
> 
> Omg, nonnie! I love the movie Ladyhawke! I’m hoping it’s the same thing you’re talking about, because it’s perfect, nonnie. I also went overboard … like … I didn’t have to write one this long, but it came out longer than I expected.
> 
> For those of you who don’t know what that is, you’re in for a treat! I hope you enjoy some medieval, cursed Sterek, with wolf!Derek by night and hawk!Stiles by day, and meddlesome thief!Scott who has to help the lovers break the curse.
> 
> Originally prompted on tumblr: ([x](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/post/144136323317/hi-i-was-wondering-if-you-ever-have-the-time))

Scott watched Derek from a distance, uncertain if he could fully trust the stranger. It was true, Derek had saved Scott from certain death when he defeated the High Enchantress’ men in the tavern. But Derek was the former Captain of the Guard—the man who would have put Scott to death for his theft. The new captain had known Derek well enough to taunt him before Derek easily dispatched him and his men.

Derek was a strange sort of man. He was stone-faced and cold towards Scott’s requests of taking a seat upon Triskele’s saddle. He often times ignored Scott’s statements, constantly tending to the hawk that clung to his arm. His black cloak was heavy and set upon his shoulders, a great sword stationed in the sheath attached to Triskele’s saddle.

“Why bother saving me?” Scott finally questioned when Derek didn’t make a motion to speak to him.

“Because,” Derek answered, his eyes focused on the treeline as his hawk made faint noises. He ran his fingers over the feathers beneath the hawk’s beak when the animal impatiently pressed its head up under Derek’s chin. The hawk released a crack of approval, nuzzling its head into Derek’s throat. “I need you to guide me into the city.”

“No,” Scott immediately answered, preparing to run away from Derek if need be.

“I have waited more than two years for this,” Derek replied, turning to look at Scott. “You are going to help me into the city’s gates—from there, I’ll find my own way into the church.”

“The church?” Scott asked in disbelief. “If you wanted to confess, just do so in another city.”

Derek ignored Scott as he moved to mount his horse, the hawk flapping its wings a little to keep balance on Derek’s forearm. “You owe me for my services in keeping you alive,” he stated, his eyes turning to look at the setting sun. “We need to reach a suitable camping spot before dark.”

Scott groaned, finally recanting his earlier attempts to get out of showing Derek a way _into_ Beacon instead of running away. He marched over to Derek, taking the man’s offered hand in order to pull Scott up onto the back of the horse.

It wasn’t until a half hour before sunset when Derek tied Scott to the trees, citing the prevention of Scott’s running as being the reason. Scott tried to bargain with Derek—to no avail. He sighed, catching sight of Derek reach for a saddle bag from his horse. He watched as Derek pulled different fabric from the bag, deep blood red clothing that looked too formal for a man of Derek’s caliber to wear, especially while out in the wood. He arched his eyebrow when Derek detached his cloak, wrapping the clothes in the fabric before walking off somewhere behind Scott where he couldn’t look, the hawk flying after him.

When it was apparent Derek wasn’t going to untie him, Scott dozed off for a bit. He came to when he heard the rustling in the leaves. He startled when he saw a cloaked figure tumble down the bed of leaves with a faint huff of laughter before coming to rest by Derek’s horse—Triskele, Derek had said her name was when Scott was tending to her.

“Hello, Triskele,” the cloaked man greeted the horse, reaching a hand up to pet her face. He smiled when Triskele huffed in approval, moving to gently tap her head against the man’s. “I missed you, too,” he answered with a smile.

“Excuse me!” Scott called, startling the man to quickly hide behind Triskele’s shoulder, peering out over her top. “Hi, remember me?”

“You’re that boy from the other day,” the man stated, coming out from behind Triskele. He held the black cloak tighter against his body as he suspiciously eyed Scott.

“Yes, yes I am,” Scott nodded, catching sight of the dagger in the young man’s hand. He gestured towards the ropes confining him to his spot. “Would you help me out some before they come back?”

“They?” The man questioned with an arched eyebrow.

“The Enchantress’s men,” Scott stated. “They tied me up, said they are coming back for me.” He startled when a distant wolf howl cracked through the night sky.

The man didn’t flinch, causing Scott to remember the way the black wolf from the other night had joyfully pranced up to the man. It had been like a dream, seeing such an untamable creature walking up to a human, complete adoration in its movements as it followed the cloaked man back into the woods. Derek hadn’t believe Scott when he said the man spoke to him—speaking in a calming tone before disappearing into the night once more. But Scott knew he wasn’t crazy, especially now that the man was here again.

The man cautiously moved forward, easily cutting the ropes that held Scott bound to the tree. He jerked back when Triskele neighed in disapproval, rearing back and stamping her hooves on the ground to catch the man’s attention. When he looked back at the tree, he found Scott to be gone.

“Tell the Captain he ties very impressive knots!” Scott yelled from within the woods, his voice becoming distant.

“Oh, no,” the man breathed, turning his head towards the howling. “He’s going to kill me,” he sighed to Triskele, who neighed in agreement.

~*~

It didn’t take Derek very long to catch up to Scott, easily tracking him. It also didn’t take the Enchantress’s men very long to find Scott, either. Derek, despite his threats, protected Scott from the sellswords. He easily fought them off, as if they weren’t skilled men. He smiled when the hawk darted down, distracting one of the men from striking a blow.

Derek tumbled from Triskele when an arrow lodged in his shoulder. He snapped the shaft of the arrow off, quickly looking at his wound before pulling his bow from one of Triskele’s side fastenings.

The hawk flew up high, curving against the wind as it let out a faint caw. It moved to swoop back down, prepared to attack the archer when an arrow pierced through its body.

“No!” Derek yelled when he heard the screeching cry of pain coming from the hawk. He looked up seeing the arrow lodged in the hawk’s small body as it attempted to fly with only one wing.

The hawks spiraled dangerously out of control, crying out as it struggled to land safely.

Derek ignored the pain in his own shoulder as he drew his bow string back, firing an arrow into the archer that hit the hawk. He didn’t need to check to know the man was dead on impact. He ran to where he saw the hawk disappear, having fallen in a distant field. His feet stumbled to a stop when he saw the hawk laying in a crumpled heap.

The hawk made a weak injured sound, its good wing attempting to correct the way it had landed. Its beak snapped open and closed in pain, wiggling its body as it tried to get up.

Derek knelt beside the animal, gently moving it off of its injured wing. “It’s going to be alright,” he stated, his hand resting over the hawk’s belly as it cried. “Get me a cloth from my saddle bag,” he instructed Scott when he saw him come closer.

Scott hurried towards Triskele, rummaging through the bag in order to find something. He brought Derek one of the many spare clothes Derek kept for bandages.

“I know,” Derek softly answered the hawk’s cries. “I know, I’m sorry. This is all my fault,” he guiltily chastised himself. “It’s all my fault.”

Derek snatched it from Scott’s hold, easing the hawk into the cloth as he wrapped the material around it. He soothingly hushed the bird when it weakly cried at Derek situating its wounded wing around the arrow. He quickly looked up to catch sight of the sun already setting. He moved with the hawk cradled in his arms, instructing Scott to get on Triskele.

Scott obeyed, not wanting to anger Derek further, knowing it was his fault the hawk was injured in the first place because he ran away last night. He was surprised that Derek held the hawk out for him to take.

“Do you see that castle in the distance?” Derek started, pointing in the distance just over the treeline when he was certain the hawk was safe in Scott’s arms.

“Yes,” Scott answered as he looked, holding the hawk against his chest as it struggled.

“There is a Lord that lives there—Lord Stilinski,” Derek instructed, his eyes falling on the hawk. “Tell him I sent you, and that the hawk is injured. He will know what to do.”

“The hawk is as good as dead, Derek,” Scott countered, knowing that the is was unlikely that he would reached the castle before the bird perished.

Derek suddenly grabbed Scott by the collar of his shirt, almost ripping him off the saddle—Scott was certain that if he wasn’t holding the hawk, Derek would have thrown him to the ground. “Don’t you dare say that,” he dangerously growled. “You get the hawk to Lord Stilinski and he will save its life.” He released his hold on Scott, taking a step back when he felt the sun fall even more behind the trees. “If the hawk doesn’t make it, I will hunt you down until the end of my days, and nothing will stop me from finding you.” His eyes flickered towards the hawk before looking back at Scott. “Now, go!”

~*~

Jennifer twisted the scarf in her hands, her nails catching on the embroidered moons and suns. She hated it—a constant reminder of just another gift Derek had purchased to give Stiles.

“High Enchantress,” a servant’s voice called as they bowed before her. “The hunter—he’s here.”

“Let him in,” Jennifer stated without looking back at the servant. She moved to stand by the window, eyes tracking the setting sun. She was angered that her men only managed to wound the hawk. But she knew it would slow Derek down—she knew he’d have the boy bring Stiles to Lord Stilinski. She knew that Derek wouldn’t leave Stiles, blinded by his love for him. It was the perfect opportunity to end them both.

“You sent for me?” A male voice questioned.

“I have a job for you to do,” Jennifer stated as she leaned against the stone framing the window. “I need you to find a wolf and bring the coat back to me.”

“Any wolf, or do you want a particular color?” The hunter asked.

“I want a specific wolf,” Jennifer stated. “It’s much larger than an ordinary wolf.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” the hunter answered.

“There’s a boy with alabaster skin, scattered with moles,” Jennifer explained as she thought about Stiles. “With large, dove-like eyes. He’s accompanied by this wolf—the one with fur as black as the night they travel by.”

“Is it the boy or the wolf you want dead?” The hunter questioned.

“Kill the boy before you end the wolf’s life,” Jennifer commanded. “Let the wolf smell the blood of the boy it loves. Let it howl in pain before you end it.”

“Yes, my lady,” the hunter dutifully answered.

~*~

The hawk whined and cried as Scott rode through the glen. It pecked at Scott whenever he tried to comfort it similar to the way Derek had. It grew most restless as Triskele approached the castle’s gates at full gallop.

“Easy, boy,” one of the guards called to Scott. “What business do you have with Lord Stilinski?”

“I have a hawk,” Scott stated as he tried to display the animal as easy as possible. “Captain Hale sent me. Please, it’s injured and I was told to—”

“It’s injured?” The guard demanded, the sound of the gate opening up immediately cutting off the commands. “Fetch Deaton and Lord Stilinski!”

Scott didn’t question the reaction, quickly riding into the castle’s walls as Derek’s threat echoed in his mind. The hawk was a heavy weight of remembrance of what should happen if he failed. He dismounted as quickly as possible, following the guards into the castle. He didn’t bother gawking about, knowing that whoever these people were—whoever Lord Stilinski was, valued the hawk as dearly as Derek did.

“Lay it down on the bed,” one of the guards commanded.

Scott moved to carefully place the bird in the center of the mattress, backing away when a man in billowing robes entered, pushing the guards out of the way.

“What happened?” The man calmly asked.

“The Enchantress’s men,” Scott explained. “They were trying to take me prisoner, Captain Hale rescued me, but one of the archers hit the hawk before the Captain could kill him.”

“Deaton, is it him?” A older gentleman came into the rooms, dismissing the guards in order to make more room.

“According to this young man, it is,” Deaton answered the older man as he inspected the hawk. “Unless Derek has been traveling with a different hawk than Stiles.”

“He never would,” the older gentleman answered, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Can you save him?” He asked when the hawk released another cry.

“It will be sunset in a few,” Deaton explained. “That will certainly help. Would be good to work in private,” he commented on Scott’s presence for the first time.

“Captain Hale was very adamant that the bird survive,” Scott explained. “I would prefer not to let it out of my sight.”

“He threatened to kill you, I imagine,” Deaton stated as if it was a common practice of Derek’s to threaten people over something as simple as a hawk’s life.

“What do you need, Deaton?” The older gentleman asked.

“A few of my things from my stores,” Deaton answered. “I’ll be but a few minutes. Try to keep Stiles from moving too much.”

Scott looked at the hawk, noting for the first time that it was more than likely an animal of such importance would have a name. Stiles was an unusual one, but sounded as if it was a homage to Lord Stilinski’s last name—perhaps the hawk had been a beloved gift from the Lord as a form of patronage.

“Lord Stilinski?” Scott questioned when the man moved to sit beside the hawk.

“Yes?” The man answered, his eyes never leaving the animal.

“Is there anything I can do, or—”

“Get me the one of the blankets there,” Lord Stilinski answered as he gestured towards where a fur blanket rest hanging over a chest.

Scott turned to grab the blanket, pausing when he saw a pocket sized etching of a young man resting on one of the shelves—the profile looking like a younger Derek. He leaned closer to the etching, noticing that it was similar to a favor that could be given from one lover to another.

A sudden flurry of noises and cries suddenly broke through the stretching silence, spurring Scott to move. He halted when he looked back at the bed, catching sight of Lord Stilinski hunching over the form of a naked young man writhing in pain on the bed. He saw the arrow sticking out of the man’s shoulder.

“Stiles, stop!” Lord Stilinski commanded as he pinned his hand down from trying to yank the arrow out.

“I fell,” the man—Stiles answered, heavily panting as he winced in pain with every movement. “Dad, I was falling, and Derek—where’s Derek?” He quickly demanded. “Is he—”

“He sent this boy with you here,” Lord Stilinski explained as he took the blanket from Scott’s somewhat outstretched arm. He placed it over Stiles, covering his son’s nudity as he forced him to lay back on the mattress.

“But he’s alive. Tell me Derek’s alive!” Stiles demanded.

“He is,” Lord Stilinski stated, brushing his son’s hair from his forehead. “He didn’t come within the walls, but he’s alive.”

Stiles weakly nodded, relaxing back into the bed for the first time. “As long as he’s well,” he accepted, his eyes wandering to Scott. “If you hadn’t of run—”

“I know,” Scott quickly answered, still uncertain of what he was witnessing. He realized that the young man—Stiles—had an arrow lodged in his shoulder, just like the hawk had. He also noticed that Stiles was the same mysteriously cloaked man from before.

“I see he’s transformed back,” Deaton commented as he walking into the room with a hand full of herbs and bandages.

Stiles rested his head back against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about Derek. He heard the distant, mournful howls of the wolf, a weak joy pulling at his heart in being able to hear Derek.

“Are the gates closed?” Deaton asked as he settled next to Lord Stilinski and Stiles.

“They closed them after the boy rode in,” Lord Stilinski answered.

“Good,” Deaton stated. “Removing the arrow is going to be painful,” he explained. “And with the likelihood of Stiles screaming, I’m certain Derek would tear the entire castle to pieces.”

Scott furrowed his eyebrows, uncertain what Deaton meant. “If you’re helping the hawk … _Stiles_ , why would Derek attack you?”

Deaton looked at Scott before looking at Lord Stilinski.

Another howl cracked through the night sky, this time closer than before.

“Because Derek can’t control himself under the pull of the moon,” Deaton offered as he looked back at Stiles’ wound.

“I’ll explain it all later,” Lord Stilinski stated, gesturing for Scott to drop the subject.

Scott knew something more complex was happening.

The wolf’s howling grew louder and more intense. The guards began to panic when the wolf’s howling turned to barks and snarls whenever Stiles’ screams cracked through the night. The wolf’s claws tore at the gate before pacing in agitated anger.

Stiles had fallen asleep for the night, his breathing labored as a cold sweat fell over him. He released a moan of pain whenever the wolf howled, as if he was trying to answer its call.

Deaton kept an eye on Stiles, leaving Scott to sit at a table with Lord Stilinski.

“Tell me,” Scott stated. “Tell me what happened to them.” He turned to look at Lord Stilinski, watching the man stare into the flickering flames of the lit hearth beside the table. He released an annoyed sigh when Lord Stilinski didn’t answer him. “Something happened to your son to force him to change into a hawk by day! That same thing forces Derek to be a wolf at night, does it not?”

“So you figured it out,” Lord Stilinski answered.

“It’s not hard to realize that _that_ wolf has a love for Stiles—a similar affection I’ve seen Derek have for the hawk,” Scott replied.

“They were cursed,” Lord Stilinski finally confessed as he tore his eyes away from the fire to look at Scott.

“Why?” Scott asked, uncertain what someone as kind as Stiles had done to bring down such a curse. As for Derek, Scott was certain the former Captain of the Guard could excel at upsetting the correct person.

“The High Enchantress … hated Stiles for catching Derek’s eye,” Lord Stilinski explained.

“ _She_ cursed them?” Scott questioned.

“She grew incessant in her desires to consume control of Beacon,” Lord Stilinski explained. “As Captain of the Guard, Derek was the perfect person to have under her control. She tried to seduce him, to have a pull over him. But she realized too late that his heart belonged to another. She felt scorned by his rejection. When she discovered it was Stiles that held Derek’s heart … She grew jealous.”

~*~

_Stiles was too young and naive to be submerged into the lifestyle of the King’s Court. He grew tired of the double-edged words and perfumed threats. He asked to stay with me, away from the eyes of the Court. I foolishly accepted the King’s appointment as Lord of Beacon, bringing Stiles with me. I retained this land, but was asked to live there—to oversee the people and its lands, and keep in check the High Enchantress._

_I knew from the beginning that Stiles had found someone to preoccupy his time when he started to spend less time in the libraries. I knew Derek was the one who caught Stiles’ eye the first time I saw them together._

_Derek was the son of a prominent family. The family was nearly decimated by a great fire—Derek was a lone survivor. He entered the Knightsguard immediately, training himself in the various art forms of war. He became a perfect soldier—a good man at heart, determined to do the right thing. He was assigned as the Captain of the Guard for Beacon upon my arrival. His men loved him—the people loved him. My son loves him._

“Captain Hale,” Lord Stilinski called, ignoring Stiles’ protests as a few of the other nobles looked onward.

“My lord,” Captain Hale greeted Lord Stilinski, bowing to him, his eyes barely registering Stiles.

“I have a few matters to attend still,” Lord Stilinski started, gesturing for Derek to lift his head from his bow. “Would you be as kind as to make sure my son makes it home—and _stays_ there.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, giving his father a soft glare.

“Of course,” Captain Hale nodded in acceptance, turning towards Stiles.

Stiles held in his groan of disapproval as he turned to head back to the castle, not caring if Captain Hale was following him or not.

Captain Hale remained completely silent, forcing Stiles to look over his shoulder to make sure that he was still following him. He was aware of the way Stiles slowed his pace, moving to walk beside him.

“Are you going to be silent the entire time?” Stiles asked as he turned his head to look at Captain Hale, his feet still kicking at the stones.

“Does the young lord wish me to speak?” Captain Hale answered in kind, not looking at Stiles as he kept his eyes surveying their surroundings.

“If I said I did, would you?” Stiles asked, turning towards Captain Hale. “Would the great Captain Hale bend to the will of a _young lord_?”

The briefest pull of a smile graced the corner of Captain Hale’s mouth before disappearing. “I wouldn’t call myself great.”

“All of Beacon would,” Stiles countered. “My father would.”

“Your father is a good man, I’ll have to trust his judgment,” Captain Hale answered.

Stiles snorted. “Flattering my father will not get you anywhere—not with me.”

“You believe I’m trying to get somewhere?” Captain Hale questioned.

“How can I not?” Stiles retorted as he climbed the steps towards the castle. “You are an exceptional swordsman—you’ve completed training faster than any other Knightsguard. You come from a great family, yet I see or hear about no Hale in the Court. It’s almost as if you are trying to climb somewhere.” He paused his movements when he heard Captain Hale’s steps halt. He turned to look at the Captain, noticing how still he was, staring down at the steps.

“The young lord has done a great deal of research,” Captain Hale gravely stated, looking up at Stiles for the first time. “But he hasn’t done exceptional research.”

Stiles’ expression soured at that, feeling as if he was being scolded by one of his tutors. “And what did I get wrong?” He questioned.

“You are correct that I joined the Knightsguard and completed my training faster than those before me,” Captain Hale stated as he climbed the necessary steps until he was on the same one as Stiles.

Stiles took a small step away from Captain Hale, keeping a small distance between them as he stared up at him.

“But there are no Hales in the Court because there are no Hales left besides myself,” Captain Hale explained.

Stiles’ expression fell, his complexion paling. He opened his mouth, his bottom lip wavering as he tried to find the correct words. “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to insult you.”

Captain Hale kept his eyes on Stiles’ face, capturing as much detail as possible. He offered a faint nod in acceptance of Stiles’ apology.

“Good day, Captain Hale,” Stiles slightly bowed out of respect before hurrying up the last of the steps.

“Derek,” Captain Hale called after Stiles. He waited until Stiles turned to look at him. “My name,” he explained.

Stiles faintly smiled, ducking his head as he hurried towards into castle.

_Stiles never made another argument against Derek escorting him. He walked with Derek almost everywhere in Beacon—it had become a common sight to see the Captain of the Guard escorting Stiles through the streets. It even became common to see the Captain lingering in the gardens with Stiles, both enveloped in deep conversation._

“You work for my father,” Stiles started as he calmly walked around the fountain, his eyes keeping track of Derek’s stationary form. “So I could tell you to do anything, and you’d do it.”

“I work for the King,” Derek corrected him, his eyes following Stiles’ movements.

“Ah, but my father was appointed by the King to oversee Beacon,” Stiles countered. “Which means, at the end of the day, you work for my father.”

Derek sighed as a smile pulled at his lips. “Aye, I suppose, at the end of the day, that means I work for your father.” He moved closer to Stiles when he watched the young lord climb onto the lip of the fountain.

“And you’d do what he told you to?” Stiles asked, keeping his balance, amused by the look of mild concern pulling at Derek’s features.

“It’s not that simple,” Derek answered. “Every knight has morals—a code that he lives by, and even his King cannot force him to break it.”

“You live by that?” Stiles questioned.

“Yes, I do,” Derek honestly answered. “As my mother and father before me did.”

Stiles paused. “My father told you to obey me,” he stated. “Do you?”

Derek nodded.

“So, if I told you to do something—if you thought it was what I wanted, you’d do it without question?” Stiles hesitantly asked.

“No,” Derek replied. “I’d never do something I was uncomfortable with,” he explained. “But your father is a good man, and I have faith that he raised a good man—which means that I know you’d never ask me to do something that went against my own interests.”

Stiles came to a stop before Derek, looking down at him. He reached his hands out for Derek to help him down. He placed his hands on Derek’s shoulders, conscious of the way Derek’s hands held his hips to lift him down to the ground. His hands lingered on Derek’s shoulders longer than necessary.

“If I asked you to wear my favor,” Stiles softly asked, his eyes focused on Derek’s. “What would your answer be?”

“Gladly,” Derek answered, his breath shallow as his heart beat loud in his chest.

_It had become obvious that Derek and Stiles were intending to see their courtship through to the end. They were nearly inseparable, only parting when either had a duty to see to. Derek had been taking more and more liberties to distance himself from the High Enchantress and align himself and the Guard with my own household. It was working, until Jennifer discovered Derek’s intentions._

Derek’s hands ran over the fabric of the sash, his eyes detailing its violet tinted sapphire color of the material. His fingertips paused over the silver thread embroidered into suns and moons scattered across the sash. He was more than satisfied with the final result, confident that Stiles would accept the favor. A smile pulled at his lips as he recalled the way Stiles gingerly wrapped his own favor around Derek’s arm, tucking it beneath his vambrace. The feeling of Stiles’ lips pressing against his as Stiles’ fingers finished tying the favor was still fresh in his mind.

“Captain Hale,” a female voice ripped Derek from his thoughts, putting him on guard as he turned to face the owner.

“High Enchantress,” Derek answered, his hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword, his other hand moving the favor by his sides in hopes she wouldn’t bother commenting on it.

“I don’t see you at the festivities anymore,” Jennifer commented as she moved closer to him, her robes flowing behind her as she turned in circles around Derek, inspecting him. Her eyes found the favor.

“I have been preoccupied elsewhere,” Derek replied, his hand fastening on the material of the favor.

“Yes, elsewhere,” Jennifer commented. “Lord Stilinski’s son.”

Derek narrowed his eyes on Jennifer, knowing she was planning something.

“He is a beauty,” Jennifer started, moving closer to Derek. “Alabaster skin, marked by such gorgeous moles. Wide, welcoming eye fill with warmed honey. He’s a prize for any man or woman to call their own,” she reached her hand out as she spoke, grasping part of the sash hanging from Derek’s hand. “Would be a shame if something happened to him.”

“Are you threatening Lord Stilinski’s son?” Derek growled, his hand only tightening on the sash instead of giving over to her.

“No,” Jennifer stated in amusement. “I’m threatening your lover.” She gave the sash a pull, smiling when Derek released it. She ran the sash over her hands, examining the material. “I’m sure Stiles would have loved this,” she commented.

“What do you want?” Derek demanded, glaring daggers at the woman.

“I want you to retire from the Guard,” Jennifer simply stated, playing with the sash in her hands. “I want you to leave and live a life of dishonor, away from the civility of the Court. I want you to stop turning Beacon against me.”

“You don’t deserve Beacon,” Derek answered.

“And you don’t deserve young Lord Stilinski,” Jennifer countered. “Leave, and I’ll leave him alone. Stay, and I can’t guarantee young Lord Stilinski will reach his next name day.”

Derek hesitated, knowing that Jennifer meant every possible threat imaginable. He knew she was a jealous woman, and that she was capable of getting her way when she pushed for it. He finally nodded in defeat.

“Good,” Jennifer answered. She held the sash out of Derek’s reach when he moved to take it from her. “I’ll keep this—as agreement. Wouldn’t want Stiles to think you actually still care for him, would we?”

_They had grown so close over the year that it was natural for Stiles to take Derek’s parting from the Guard negatively. He refused to accept it—he begged me to give my blessing for their union, saying he would go with or without it. In the end, I let him go._

“Derek!” Stiles yelled as he chased down the courtyard’s steps, racing towards Derek. He didn’t slow, colliding with Derek as he grasped him in his arms. His breathing was heavy, his entire body shaking as he held onto Derek, pressing his cheek against Derek’s shoulder.

“Stiles—”

“—Don’t go,” Stiles hurriedly stated. “Don’t leave—not without me.”

Derek pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he observed Stiles’ features.

“Elope with me,” Stiles breathed. “Let’s run away—from the Court, from Jennifer, from the King.” He struggled to catch his breath as he prayed that Derek would agree with him.

“Your father,” Derek argued. “You can’t leave him behind—not for me.”

“My father told me to follow my heart,” Stiles countered. “And my heart is with you. Wherever you go, it will follow.” He reached his hands up, fingertips caressing over Derek’s cheek. “Wherever you go, _I_ will follow.”

Derek pulled Stiles closer, his hands pressed flat against the small of Stiles’ back. His fingers pulled at the soft material of Stiles’ coat, wanting to hold him as close as possible and never let go. “She’ll never leave us alone,” he uttered in defeat, knowing he should let Stiles go. He had seen Stiles’ rage and horror when he told him about Jennifer’s threat—about the way she kept the sash Derek had intended as a favor, out of spite. In the end, Stiles said he didn’t need a favor when he had Derek.

“Then we’ll never stop moving,” Stiles countered. “We’ll keep moving, and never look back. As long as we have each other, I don’t care where we are.” His fingertips gently caressed Derek’s lips, his eyes tracking the movement.

Derek pressed a light kiss against Stiles’ fingers, moving forward to capture Stiles’ lips with his own. He held Stiles tightly, his hand moving to cup the back of his head as he deepened the kiss. He felt the way Stiles dug his nails into Derek’s shoulders, a reminder that neither one of them was letting go.

“I love you,” Stiles uttered between kisses.

“And I love you,” Derek answered, placing kisses along Stiles face as he held him tightly. He pressed his face into Stiles shoulder, closing his eyes as he took comfort in the familiar scent, one he wanted to bottle up and never forget.

_They eloped that night and traveled every day to put distance between them and the Enchantress’s reach. But it was no use. She outmaneuvered me into being retired from Beacon—I couldn’t do anything to protect them. Every time a garrison caught up to them, Derek had been able to defeat them or Stiles was able to negotiate with them. She grew desperate and called on a darker force—one that took the last piece of what was left of her rotting heart. She traded everything just to curse them. Even then, she felt as if it wasn’t enough—she wanted Derek to watch Stiles in pain—to die—knowing it would hurt him more than any curse could._

~*~

“The voice of the wolf you hear,” Lord Stilinski started, sighing with a heavy heart. “That is Derek’s cry for Stiles. The golden hawk you brought to me is my son.” He shook his head. “Stiles is a hawk by day, as Derek is a wolf by night.”

“It happens every day?” Scott asked.

“Every day and every night, they turn into animals, cursed to never touch in human form. There is a split second, between day and night, when they can see each other—almost touch. But when their animal forms take over, they cannot even remember their true selves,” Lord Stilinski explained. “Sometimes, they will remember bits and pieces, but usually nothing. Stiles … as a hawk, Stiles retains more of his human side than Derek does. When the wolf takes over … Derek can’t be controlled, even by Stiles. He would never hurt Stiles, but he can’t be reasoned with—attacking any person that gets too close to Stiles.”

Lord Stilinski remembered the night Derek attacked him, Stiles saving his life by becoming a shield between them. The black wolf has snarled and snapped its teeth at Lord Stilinski even after Stiles willingly wrapped himself around the wolf.

In the morning, Derek had seen the claw marks the bandages tried to cover on Lord Stilinski’s chest and shoulder. Derek left that day, leaving Stiles’ hawk form behind in a cage—ignoring its shrieks of protest against being left behind. Stiles was furious with his father the next night for locking him in the cage—even after he explained that it was Derek who placed him there. Stiles informed his father that, unless he planned on keeping him locked away in a windowless room for the rest of his days, he was going to fly out to be with Derek.

Derek and Stiles had stayed away from the castle ever since that day. Derek refused to be around people at night, knowing he would hurt them, while Stiles refused to be without Derek.

“Isn’t there a way to break the curse?” Scott asked.

“Derek believes if he kills the Enchantress, the curse will reverse itself,” Lord Stilinski explains. “Stiles doesn’t believe it. He thinks Derek is going to sacrifice himself if it means he’ll kill Jennifer.”

“And since Stiles is a hawk while Derek is human,” Scott began.

“Stiles cannot stop him,” Lord Stilinski finished.

“What if he’s wrong and it just cements the curse?” Scott questioned.

“I don’t know,” Lord Stilinski replied. “I’ve tried to find a cure—a way to get Jennifer to reverse it, even.”

“And?”

“Rumors,” Lord Stilinski tiredly stated. “Tales about a day without a sun or moon. Deaton said that if Derek and Stiles could stand before Jennifer on this day, as their human selves, the curse would be broken.”

“And you honestly believe that?” Scott questioned.

“It’s all I can hope for,” Lord Stilinski answered.

“Won’t Derek listen to Stiles’ side?” Scott asked in protest. “Derek wouldn’t do this without Stiles’ acceptance.”

“Derek knows that Stiles would do anything to rid Derek of this curse,” Lord Stilinski explained. “Stiles blames himself for bringing the curse upon them—knowing that Jennifer cursed them because he was in the way of getting Derek.”

“If he takes the Enchantress’s life, it could curse them to be animals forever,” Scott argued.

“Derek doesn’t plan on living,” Lord Stilinski explained. “He thinks that once Jennifer is dead, and he is no longer part of the equation, Stiles will be freed from the curse.”

~*~

The Enchantress’s men burst through the gates faster than anything Scott was prepared for, Stiles barely regaining consciousness when it occurred. Lord Stilinski set Scott to fetch Stiles, both men slipping from the room and rushing through the hallways and towards the exit.

Triskele reacted upon seeing Stiles, hurrying through the courtyard and taking place beside him. She turned around, kicking her feet out behind her to connect with one of the Enchantress’s men directly in the chest. She steadied herself, waiting for Stiles to climb up.

Scott moved to help Stiles, lifting him onto Triskele’s saddle with ease. He pulled himself up behind Stiles, wrapping his hands around Triskele’s reins as he ushered her to break into a gallop, rushing from the courtyard at Lord Stilinski’s urgent orders to run.

Stiles winced as his body jostled some, grasping hold of Triskele’s mane to try and steady himself. He heard the sharp growls and fierce barks burst from behind the gates, black fur accompanied by teeth tore out the throats of several of the men.

“Derek!” Stiles yelled when he heard the soft whine, one of them men having kicked the wolf.

The black wolf moved faster than the men, dodging their blades and arrows as it ran after Triskele, following both Scott and Stiles into the woods nearby the castle’s walls.

Triskele didn’t stop until she paused by a clearing. Scott slipped off the saddle, moving to pull the great sword from the sheath strapped to Triskele’s side. He turned to face any of the upcoming sell swords, prepared to keep Stiles safe, as per Derek’s order. Time seemed to slow, the sun rising high up above the tree line.

Scott turned at the sound of rustling, a caw breaking through the silence of the woods. He saw the hawk perched upon Triskele’s saddle, watching him carefully. The hawk’s quick snip ushered him to turn back around, moving to cut down the likely person in his way.

Derek snatched ahold of the hilt of his great sword, stopping Scott from hitting him. He easily took the sword out of Scott’s grasp, turning his sight to see the hawk resting on the saddle. He allowed a faint smile of relief to pull at his lips.

“So,” Scott awkwardly stated as he moved back, away from Derek. “You’re a wolf.”

Derek looked at Scott before moving towards Triskele and the hawk. He silently placed the great sword back into its sheath, petting a hand down the side of Triskele’s mane. He reached a hand out to run his gloved fingers over the soft curve of the hawk’s feathers.

The hawk released a weak call, leaning into Derek’s touch.

“You saved his life,” Derek stated, finally answering Scott as he kept his eyes on the hawk.

“You told me you would hunt me down otherwise,” Scott countered, trying to hide the fact that he was actually concerned about Stiles’ wellbeing.

“You didn’t do it for me,” Derek answered, moving his arm down for the hawk to step onto his vambrace. “Stiles has a way of attracting people to his goodness. He makes people want to help him—he’s gotten good at judging people.” He smiled when the hawk pecked at his arm in disagreement. “Regardless, thank you.”

“He cares a great deal for you,” Scott replied.

“He told you that?” Derek asked in disbelief that Scott managed to talk to Stiles.

“He was frantic with worry about you,” Scott honestly replied. “He begged his father for word of you. He only calmed when Lord Stilinski told him that you sent me with him—that you were alive but outside the walls.”

Derek paused his motions to climb into the saddle. He allowed the hawk to keep balance on his arm as he thought about how Stiles must have sounded. “I haven’t heard his voice in over two years,” he admitted to Scott as he looked down at the hawk as it pressed into his chest. “But I still remember every inflection. Especially the lightness of his laugh,” he bit his tongue, recalling the last memory he had of Stiles laughing.

They had been riding for more than a day towards Lord Stilinski’s castle, stopping when Triskele grew tired. They were resting on top of Derek’s cloak, clinging to one another’s naked forms as the fire’s embers burned into the early hours of the morning. Stiles was seated in Derek’s lap, fingers running through Derek’s hair as they moved together. Derek’s arms were wrapped around Stiles’ waist, holding him close as he met him thrust for thrust.

Stiles pulled back, pressing his forehead against Derek’s as he bounced as best he could. He wrapped an arm around Derek’s shoulders as his other hand pressed against Derek’s chest, fingernails digging in. He pressed kisses against Derek’s cheek, moving down to leave hickeys along the curve of Derek’s neck.

“I love you,” he had huffed out, a joyful laugh erupting from his throat. He was so happy—happier than he had ever been while attending the King’s Court. Happier than he had been before knowing Derek.

The soft peck of the hawk’s beak against his shoulder prompted Derek back to the present.

“He loves you very much,” Scott stated, knowing that if he was going to change Derek’s mind, he’d have to plead to his inner love for Stiles. “He’d be distraught without you.”

“Did Lord Stilinski plead with you to beseech me on Stiles’ behalf?” Derek questioned as he pulled himself up onto Triskele’s saddle.

“No,” Scott stated. “Stiles did,” he lied.

Derek scoffed, turning to look at Scott. “The day I believe that will be the day I hear those words from Stiles’ lips himself.”

“You think Stiles wants you dead?” Scott asked.

“I think Stiles believes there is no way to cure the curse, even with Jennifer’s death,” Derek replied. “He’s afraid I’ll kill her for naught.”

“And I agree with him,” Scott answered. “Lord Stilinski has found evidence that the curse could be broken, but you are too pig headed to believe it.”

“A fabled day without night and night without day,” Derek recited. “It’s a beautiful illusion—a hopeful dream that has no basis in reality.”

“If there is no sun to change Stiles to a hawk and no moon to change you to a wolf, then there is a chance you will both be human when it occurs,” Scott argued. “It’s worth an attempt.”

“You want me to bring Stiles into the jowls of the beast,” Derek snapped as Triskele slightly trotted in place, feeling Derek’s anger in the sharp yank of her reins. “If I bring him there, and it doesn’t work, Stiles will be defenseless and Jennifer will have him killed. I will not put him in harm’s way again, not when I can prevent it.”

~*~

“He said that?” Stiles asked as he played with the loose tassels of his shirt. He didn’t bother to tie them, knowing that the shirt would still be too big no matter what. Playing with the small strings put him at ease as he thought of Derek. Wearing Derek’s spare clothes made him feel closer to him.

“He’s determined to kill Jennifer, that’s why we’re headed back to Beacon,” Scott explained. “Do you think he can be stopped?”

Stiles snorted, turning to face Scott. “Do you think anything could stop Derek when he sets his mind to it?”

“If you could somehow explain to him the situation,” Scott offered.

“And how do you propose I do that?” Stiles sighed in question. “Peck at him until he thinks he understands me?”

“If your father was correct about the day and night disappearing, about you both being human at the same time, then Derek will know,” Scott replied.

“By that time, Derek will have already killed Jennifer,” Stiles countered as he moved to search through Derek’s satchel. He smiled when he pulled out his favor—the one he gave to Derek when they first started courting. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric of the scarf, smiling as he recalled the way his mother had often times done a similar action. He turned towards Scott, eyes still focused on the favor. “I gave Derek this favor,” he explained. “I wrapped the scarf around his vambrace while we sat on the lover’s bench in my father’s garden. It was the first time he kissed me. He told me he’d keep it—always.” He looked up at Scott. “If you show him this … if you tell him that, he’ll know you are speaking the truth about my decision.”

Scott looked at the favor in Stiles’ outstretched hand. He slowly took the favor from him, knowing that Derek would kill him if he lost it. “And what is your decision?”

Stiles’ eyes lingered on the favor. “That we should wait,” he answered. “That my father wouldn’t suggest this if he didn’t have faith that it would work.”

Scott promised to deliver the message to Derek, knowing that it was the only thing that would sway him from his decision. The night passed with pleasant conversation, Stiles listening to Scott share stories about his childhood. It didn’t take long for Scott to convince Stiles to accompany him into the small inn beside the barn.

Stiles used Derek’s cloak to hold above them in order to keep them from becoming soaked by the pouring rain.

“Derek won’t mind?” Scott asked as he huddled beneath the cloak with Stiles.

“I think Derek would care more that you let me get soaked,” Stiles partially laughed as they moved outside the barn.

They were almost into the inn when they drew close to the horses stationed outside. Stiles suddenly screamed when he saw the fur hanging from one of the horses’ saddles. He yelled in protest as he moved forward, prompting Scott to follow. It was then that Scott realized the fur was wolf, a wolf head attached to the hide.

“Stiles, don’t!” Scott stated as he grabbed his arm to prevent him from touching the fur.

Stiles was pulled back by Scott, catching sight of a man just outside the inn door watching them with interest. Stiles stumbled backwards, yanking himself away from Scott and the cloak as he ran back into the barn, to Triskele.

Scott saw the man, realizing that he must have been a hunter. He hurried to the barn, almost falling backwards when Triskele slammed through the door, galloping at full speed towards the woods where Derek would be roaming for the night—Stiles sitting atop her saddle.

“Derek!” Stiles frantically called out. “Derek, please! My wolf!”

Triskele slowed as the woods grew denser, making it harder for her to navigate through it. She startled when thunder cracked through the sky, turning to bring Stiles away from the danger. A sudden black mass dashed out in front of her, causing her to rear back and kick her hooves at the intruder.

“Triskele!” Stiles yelled as he fell from the saddle, landing on the ground with a sharp thud. He groaned at the pain in his side as he sat up.

The snap of a trap closing prompted a sharp cry to break through the woods. Stiles scrambled to his feet, running towards the sound. He ran as fast as he could when he caught sight of the old hunter looming above a black wolf caught in his trap. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the man lifting a sword above the animal.

“No!” Stiles screamed as he tackled the man. They both tumbled to the ground, Stiles quickly scrambling to his hands and knees. He felt the bile tickling his throat when he saw the wolf’s dead eyes staring back at him. He turned to look at the old man, seeing him standing above him, sword brandished to cut him down. He fell onto his back, crawling away from the man.

A deep roar tore from the trees as a flash of black fur leapt over Stiles, attacking the hunter. The wolf tore at the hunter’s throat, not caring about the screams the man let out before being silence. The animal moved away from the man, huffing loudly as it moved backwards. It calmly moved over to Stiles, settling by his feet.

That was the scene Scott stumbled upon as he reached them.

~*~

Scott was mortified the following morning when the hawk flew forward and landed on his arm instead of Derek’s. He stared, wide-eyed, at Derek as he tried to get the hawk to fly off his arm. He stumbled backwards when Derek moved towards him.

“What happened the other night?” Derek demanded as he moved towards Scott.

“I swear,” Scott started to bumble. “Derek, nothing happened. There was a hunter at the inn—”

“You brought Stiles to an inn?” Derek asked in shock.

“We were at a barn! I gave clothes to Stiles, and we changed in the barn—

“You changed clothes with Stiles?” Derek snapped.

“Oh God, no!” Scott almost whimpered, realizing that he was digging a hole instead of helping himself.

“So you left Stiles naked?” Derek countered.

“We didn’t do anything! We were hungry and Stiles said we should try going to the inn,” Scott honestly explained, waving his arm to get the stubborn hawk off. “And then the hunter was there—Stiles saw the wolf skins, and he freaked. He took Triskele and galloped into the woods, looking for you. You ended up tearing the hunter’s throat out. That’s it, Derek.”

The hawk finally pecked at Scott’s arm before flying over to Derek. It perched on top of Derek’s arm.

“Stiles did tell me something,” Scott started, carefully watching Derek. “About Beacon.”

“No matter what you say, I won’t believe you,” Derek countered as he pressed a knuckle against the hawk’s cheek.

“Even if I tell you that I know what this is?” Scott asked as he pulled Stiles’ favor from Derek’s satchel.

Derek turned to look at Scott, his eyes widening in brief surprise before his face hardened once more. “Don’t touch that,” he growled. “Put it back, now.”

“Stiles told me to tell you that he wants to give his father’s plan a chance,” Scott stated as he defiantly held onto the favor. “He said that it was worth a chance if it meant that you’d both be together again. And that you’d also believe me if I explained that I knew what this was. That this was a favor Stiles gave you—that he still remembers the way you kissed him when he wrapped it around your vambrace in the garden of Lord Stilinski’s residence.”

Derek stared at Scott, his eyes drifting towards the hawk.

“He wants you to live, Derek,” Scott pleaded. “He wants to be with you again—and it will all mean nothing if you die killing Jennifer.” He watched Derek for a sign of agreement. “Lord Stilinski will help us. We will need to sneak you into Beacon undetected, and from there I can get you into the church. If you trust me … trust _Stiles_ , this could work.”

Derek remained quiet as he looked out at the rising sun, thoughts of finally being able to see Stiles again—to hold him—plagued his mind. He sighed, turning to look back at Scott. His eyes zeroed in on the favor hanging loosely from Scott’s hands. “I’ll show you how to cage a wolf,” he finally stated in agreement.

~*~

Stiles fidgeted in the cart, his eyes flickering over to his father. “Dirtied robes and a rickety wagon are not going to fool Jennifer into not recognizing us.”

“I don’t plan on meeting with Jennifer,” Lord Stilinski replied as he ushered the horses forward. “She is convinced that her hunter is still doing his job and chasing you. She never would believe that you’d come anywhere near Beacon’s walls.”

“What if the guards recognize you?” Stiles demanded as a guard approached them. “If something happens and—”

“Stiles,” his father quickly stated his name in reprimand. “Stop talking, and allow me to handle this.”

Stiles held his tongue, listening to his father dealing with the guard. He startled when the guard ripped his hood from his head.

“He’s a bit pretty to be a peasant, wouldn’t you say?” One of the guards questioned Lord Stilinski.

“He has more beauty than brains,” Lord Stilinski answered without his accent. “I’ve been trying to match him off, but everyone gives him back. He talks too much.”

Stiles couldn’t bother to look at the guard talking to his father, too busy staring at the guard behind him.

Boyd was watching Stiles, an obvious look of remembrance on his face. He was the one that always retrieved Derek from his secret rendezvous with Stiles. He had become a close confidant of them both, constantly listening with little remark. He valued Derek as a captain and friend.

“You said the wolf was for the Enchantress?” The guard inquired, keeping a distance from the wolf’s cage as the animal snarled and snapped at the bars.

“She sent out word that she wished for one alive,” Lord Stilinski answered.

“I don’t have record—”

“You’re early,” Boyd stated, interrupting the guard. “Most of them are arriving tomorrow after the gathering.”

Stiles allowed a small smile to pull at his lips when the guard looked at Boyd.

“I didn’t hear anything,” the guard countered.

“Relatively new order,” Boyd stated as he moved forward. “I’ll bring you to the stables.” He nodded towards Beacon’s entrance, relieving the guard of interrogating them. He walked beside the wagon, waiting until they were out of hearing before adding, “You’ll need to keep Derek quiet. Otherwise, someone may come and kill him.”

“You know,” Stiles stated, not at all surprised.

“Derek isn’t one to make a joke like this,” Boyd answered, looking up at Stiles. “Besides, you showing up with a caged wolf is no coincidence. Not while the Enchantress is calling for the slaughter of any black wolf and pale skinned boy who travels with it.”

“She knows I’m with Derek,” Stiles sorrowfully commented.

“She knows you love each other,” Boyd countered. “She knows very little of you—of Derek.”

“Thank you, Boyd,” Stiles whispered, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder.

Boyd unblinkingly reached a hand up to place over Stiles’, offering a faint squeeze of reassurance.

“More than half the Guard are still loyal to Derek,” Boyd explained once they reached the stables. “Whatever happens tomorrow, he will not be met with hostility from them.”

“We have to face Jennifer,” Stiles stated, taking Boyd’s offered hand to get down off the wagon. “It’s the only thing that can break this curse,” he explained as he moved back to the cage that held Derek.

The wolf’s growls died when it saw Stiles. It pressed its head against the cage, whimpering in hopes that he would come closer.

Stiles reached his fingers through the cage, fondly petting the wolf’s fur.

“He knows you in that form?” Boyd asked.

“Aye,” Stiles replied. “But he doesn’t recognize anyone else. He doesn’t like it when anyone gets close to me, either.”

“Boyd,” Lord Stilinski interrupted them. “The gathering—we have to get inside the church. We have someone sneaking beneath the city as we speak. He will get the church doors unlocked for Derek.”

“What is Derek planning?” Boyd questioned.

“He needs to neutralize Jennifer’s threat,” Lord Stilinski explained. “Once he’s done that, hopefully the prophecy is true.”

~*~

Stiles refused to sleep that night, sitting in the cage with the wolf. The wolf’s head rested soundly in his lap as he combed his fingers through its fur. He focused on the even pattern of the wolf’s breathing, thinking about setting human eyes once more on Derek—or worse, seeing Derek’s corpse.

“Dad,” Stiles breathed, looking up at his father for the first time now that the night was fading.

“What is it, Stiles?” Lord Stilinski questioned, faintly yawning himself awake.

“If something happens tomorrow,” Stiles started, taking in a deep breath. “If the prophecy was wrong—if Jennifer kills Derek … don’t let me turn into a human when the sun falls.”

“Stiles—”

“Please,” Stiles begged, tears building in his eyes as a tightness burned the back of his throat. “I don’t want to live in a world knowing that Derek died—especially without me being able to say goodbye.”

“You’re asking me to kill you—my son, the last of my family, who I happen to love very dearly,” Lord Stilinski answered.

“That’s why I’m asking you,” Stiles answered. “The only thing keeping Derek and I going these last two years was the hope that we’d be together again. If Derek is dead, and I am stuck like this—it’s not a life. I don’t want to turn human, with the hope that I’m going to finally see him again, only to have you tell me that Derek died at that witch’s hands. Because I’ll do it to myself then—I’ll take Derek’s dagger and stab it through my heart.” He released a faint sob, brushing his stray tears away as the wolf stirred. “I’d rather not live even for a minute with the pain of knowing he’s gone.”

“I have to tell Derek,” Lord Stilinski stated, the sun almost reaching above the trees now. “I have to tell him that you asked me to do this.”

“I know,” Stiles echoed, turning his eyes towards the sun. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, kiddo,” Lord Stilinski uttered just before the sunlight hit Stiles’ skin.

~*~

Derek fastened Stiles’ favor around his vambrace, securing it in a similar fashion that Stiles had done the first time he gave it to him. He looked up at the rising sun as the hawk released a faint cry from its spot on Lord Stilinski’s arm. He turned to look at the animal, a cold chill falling over him.

“The gathering is almost over,” Derek stated. “If Scott doesn’t hurry, Jennifer will be gone before we can do anything.”

“The sun hasn’t disappeared yet,” Lord Stilinski offered, keeping his eyes on the hawk.

“If it doesn’t, I’m going to kill Jennifer, regardless,” Derek answered.

“This morning, just before you changed back,” Lord Stilinski started. “My son asked me to end his life should you die.”

Derek looked at Lord Stilinski.

“My son is all I have left in my life,” Lord Stilinski stated as he looked at the hawk. “I’ve loved him from the moment I felt him kick against my wife’s stomach. And even if he must spend half of his life as a hawk, I will continue to love him.” He finally looked at Derek. “Would you?”

“I do,” Derek corrected him. “I will always love your son, whether I get to lay eyes on his face again or not. But my sentiments echo his—if something were to happen to him, I would hope for someone to end my life before I felt the pain of knowing I lost him.” He paused, looking over at the church. “But the choice is yours, Lord Stilinski. Stiles would never hate you for not taking his life, and neither would I.”

“If you die,” Lord Stilinski started. “I will respect my son’s wishes, and won’t make his soul linger here in pain.”

Derek nodded, unable to vocalize his appreciation for understanding. He walked over to Triskele, climbing up into the saddle. His eyes lingered on the hawk, unable to force himself to say goodbye, knowing that Stiles wouldn’t understand him.

“Derek,” Lord Stilinski called. “Don’t die. Make the witch pay, but live. I have faith that this will work.”

Derek hesitated before nodding. “If the bell rings, and the gathering ends, then I am dead. And know that I am sorry that I failed you and your son.”

“You never failed us, Derek,” Lord Stilinski stated. “Never.”

~*~

Triskele reared back, huffing in protest when she caught sight of the Guard lined up to block their way. Regardless, she trotted up to them at Derek’s prompting.

“I know many of you remember me,” Derek started, not bothering to reach for his sword. “As your former Captain, but also, your friend. I will be your Captain once more when Lord Stilinski returns, and the Enchantress gone from the lands.” He scanned their faces, waiting for a sign of doubt. “I ask you to let me pass.”

One of the guards in the front moved their horse to the side, removing their helmet in the process.

Derek smiled when he noticed it was Boyd.

“My Captain,” Boyd nodded at Derek in recognition.

A murmur of echoing statements moved throughout the Guard, the men and women parting to make way for Derek’s passing.

Derek didn’t waste the opportunity, pushing Triskele to gallop forward. The clicking sound of Triskele’s hooves surrounded him, echoing loudly off the surrounding rock laid walls. He ignored the different people yelling protest when they realized he was riding a horse through the hallways and up to the inner door of the church. He prayed Scott had managed to pick the locks, pulling back on Triskele’s reins until she reared back and slammed her hooves into the solid oak.

The door immediately gave way, bursting open to reveal a shocked, crowded room filled with courtiers.

Derek calmed Triskele, easing her into a slow trot forward. He caught sight of Scott handing off the large oak door, a small smile on the boy’s lips as he triumphantly place his lock picking tool on display. He turned his attention towards the large altar, catching sight of Jennifer kneeling before the bishop.

Jennifer glowered at Derek as she stood up, her fingers fastening into fists around the favor wrapped around her arm—the favor she had stolen from Derek years ago. She wasn’t pleased that the hunter had failed in his attempts. She was satisfied, however, that her guards were not bending their knee to Derek as they moved forward. She took a step back, prepared to use the bishop as a shield as the guards brandished their swords to fight Derek.

“I’m not here to fight you,” Derek announced to the guards. “I’m here to correct a wrong the Enchantress forced upon Lord Stilinski and his family.” His eyes scanned the five men and women creating a barrier between him and Jennifer. “I ask you to move aside, I do not wish to fight any of you.”

When the fighting broke out, Scott moved forward to assist Derek. He took hold of Triskele’s reins, pulling her away from the fighting after Derek dismounted.

~*~

Derek was outnumbered, but not outmatched. He dispatched the men easily, only struggling tirelessly against Jennifer’s new captain—Kali. He was prevented from killing the guard moving to ring the bell, a call for more of the Guard, not knowing that they wouldn’t come.

“No!” Derek screamed when he heard the bell ringing, his eyes fixed on the sun being blotted out by the moon. He stumbled forward, limbs shaking with the knowledge that Lord Stilinski would think he was dead—that he’d end Stiles’ life with that false knowledge.

Derek thought of the curse, how it stole two years from them, only to end now. He remembered the day it happened, panic settling deep within when he woke to Stiles screaming in pain. He tried to help him, not knowing what to do when Stiles begged him to make it stop—to do something. He knew it was Jennifer’s doing the moment rustling wings and a blinding light replaced Stiles with a hawk whose feathers were the same color as Stiles’ hair.

That moment was what motivated Derek’s desire to kill Jennifer. He wanted her to suffer the same pain Stiles had when the curse took over, forcing his bones to bend and crack, to realign into the smaller form of a hawk.

“Don’t let his suffer,” Derek uttered, his voice hoarse with grief. He turned back towards Jennifer, only caring that her life ended as well. He marched towards her, easily dispatching Kali’s attempt to protect her Enchantress. He didn’t care how badly he wounded Kali, as long as she stayed down. He took the few steps necessary to be on level ground with Jennifer, only a few feet away from one another.

Jennifer remained stoic, holding her head high as she evaluated Derek’s emotions.

Derek held his great sword up, pointing it at Jennifer as he took a final step forward.

“Kill me, Derek, and the curse will go on forever,” Jennifer plainly stated as she stood her ground. “You have to think of your _precious_ Stiles.”

Derek released an unsteady breath, the church’s bell still ringing as an echoing reminder that Stiles was lost. He thought of nothing but Stiles, praying that it was a quick death.

“Stiles is dead,” Derek uttered. “Damn you,” he harshly breathed. “Damn you to hell.” He raised the great sword above his head, not caring of the consequences the witnessing courtiers could cause for him. It didn’t matter any more.

“Derek,” a soft coo echoed off the church’s walls, the only sound capable of stopping Derek’s movements.

Derek froze, almost certain he was hearing things—a figment of his imagination still clinging to the hope that he’d one day hear that voice again. He knew it must have been reality when he saw the way Jennifer stared in shock over his shoulder. He turned, arms lowering the sword by his side when he saw Stiles.

Stiles was standing before the other courtiers, a supernatural halo of light engulfing his form. He was hastily dressed, shirt barely tied around his neck as the material hung from his shoulders, the sleeves loosely hanging long enough to reach his fingertips. He was barefoot, his footsteps wavering and unsure as he stared at Derek in amazement. His skin was flushed from running, pinkish patches of skin blotched all over him.

“Stiles,” Derek breathed in disbelief. He acted quickly, turning back to Jennifer to grab ahold of the collar of her dress. He forced her forward, keeping a tight hold on her. “Look at him,” he commanded. He carelessly cast his sword to the ground, ripping her hands from her eyes as she tried to shield herself from looking. “Look at him!”

Jennifer reluctantly lifted her eyes to look at Stiles. She tried to pull away when Derek moved to stand in front of her.

“Now look at me—look at us both,” Derek ordered as he released his hold on her. “Look at _us_!” He backed away from her, catching the way her eyes dashed between him and Stiles. He turned away from her, immediately moving towards Stiles with purpose.

Stiles met him halfway, his steps rushed and urgent as he held out his arms to hold Derek.

Derek fell to his knees before Stiles, unable to believe that it was real. He dreamed about Stiles every day for a year, wishing to hold his human body in his arms once more—to see that recognition in his eyes.

Stiles reached his hands out to touch Derek’s face. He released a soft sob of joy when Derek grabbed his hips, pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms around Derek’s head, holding him close as Derek hid his face against Stiles’ stomach. He pressed a kiss into Derek’s hair, his fingers threading through the locks for the first time in two years.

Derek looked up at Stiles when he pulled back, noting every curve of his face. He moved a hand to hold onto Stiles’, wanting nothing more than to memorize every part of him once again, afraid it was all about to disappear.

Stiles looked down at the thin strap clutched in his hand. The jesses—the leather strap Derek had to use to keep Stiles’ hawk form tethered to him while perched on his arm, the small bell attached to it allowed Derek to hear him if he got too far away. He looked up at Jennifer, slowly slipping his hand out of Derek’s as he moved passed him. He took the small steps up to where Jennifer was kneeling. He proudly stood before her, clutching the jesses tightly as he reached down to the favor wrapped around Jennifer’s arm. He ripped the favor from around her, pulling the fabric free. “This never belonged to you,” he firmly stated. “ _He_ never belonged to you.” He dropped the jesses in front of her, giving her one last look before turning his back on her, moving back to Derek.

“Derek!” Scott yelled, prompting Derek to turn around.

Stiles turned to see Jennifer lunging for him with a dagger. He fell to the side, moving out of her way just as a great sword flew passed him and into Jennifer’s chest. He looked at Derek, seeing him facing them with his arms outstretched from throwing his family’s great sword.

Derek turned his eyes away from Jennifer, knowing that she was dead—that it was over. He looked at Stiles as he stood up.

Stiles hurried to Derek’s side, taking ahold of his arm. His footsteps were unsteady as Derek started pulling them towards the exit. He stumbled some, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he realized that it was over—they were free. He pulled back on Derek’s arm, halting his movements.

Derek turned to look at Stiles, concerned that something was wrong when he saw the tears he was shedding—that he was changing once more now that the sun had come out again. He cupped Stiles’ face in his hands, eyes dashing over his features.

Stiles released a happy laugh, looking up at Derek. His hands pressed against Derek’s chest as he smiled up at him through his tears. “It’s real,” he uttered, his fingertips reaching out to touch Derek’s face. “You’re real.”

Derek couldn’t help but smiling, pressing a kiss against Stiles’ fingertips as they grazed across his lips. “We’re real.”

Stiles released a watery laugh, pulling Derek into a kiss. He repeated, “I love you,” against Derek’s lips, holding him close.

“And I love you,” Derek answered, feverish kisses overtaking everything around them.

Stiles laughed when Derek lifted him up in his arms, holding him up high. He leaned his head back and held his arms out as he closed his eyes, making a silent prayer of thanks. He joyfully laughed as Derek spun them, looking down at Derek as he moved to cup Derek’s face in his palms. He was thankful Derek lowered him, kissing Derek once more.

Scott released a sigh of relief, resting his head against Triskele’s, smiling when she released a giddy neigh with a bob of her head. “I’m glad I helped, too,” he stated, gently petting a hand against Triskele’s muzzle.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, tightly holding onto him. He looked above Derek’s shoulder, seeing Scott standing beside Triskele as his father came hurrying through the church’s entrance with the Guard following him. He smiled at Scott, mouthing, “Thank you.” He closed his eyes, pressing his face into Derek’s shoulder as Derek kept his arms firmly secured around his waist.

Free. They were finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The boy who croaked twice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257229) by [Imaed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imaed/pseuds/Imaed)




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